Bang (Club Deep #3)

That needs to change.

My chest clenches at the thought of disturbing her, but that’s exactly why I must. “Pamona,” I say, and she looks over her shoulder, her eyes brightening for a moment before she remembers herself and erases the smile that started to touch her lips. “Come with me.”

This game has gone on long enough.

She must recognize the command in my tone because she sets aside her book without protest and stands. Crosses the room, trails after me as I lead her through the hallway. I take her to one of the locked rooms, just beside the lounge where she stripped for me that first night.

I remember the way she stared me down, her defiant gaze as she pulled that flimsy summer dress off, and I suppress a shiver of lust.

I unlock the door and guide her inside. The room is dark, but I’ve had the maids prepare it already. Candles dot the corners, the only illumination. Oils are laid out beside them, every scent imaginable. In the center of the room is a broad massage table.

“Do you know how to give a massage, Pamona?” I ask.

She swallows hard. Steps into the room beside me, not meeting my gaze. “I don’t.”

I close the door behind us. “Well, you’ve proven to be a quick learner. I’m sure you’ll pick this up in no time.”

“I don’t know…” She glances from me to the table and then back to me.

I smirk. “Don’t worry. Even if you fumble, I’ll enjoy your touch, my little virgin.”

She shivers, and I step closer. Breathe in that familiar scent of hers, intoxicatingly sweet.

“Take off my clothes,” I tell her. She reaches for my shirt first. Begins to unbutton it slowly, her hands quivering which makes her struggle with the buttons. I wait patiently, until she manages to finally peel the shirt off. When she goes for my jeans, though, I catch her hands. Guide them to the clasp myself, and move her fingers for her.

“Do I make you nervous?” I ask, squeezing her hands pointedly, as she trembles.

“A little,” she admits, not meeting my gaze.

I grin. “Good.” I let go of one of her hands, tap her chin gently until she looks up at me. “You’re allowed to enjoy the view, you know,” I remind her. “I can tell you want to.”

She swallows hard, but glances down at my chest all the same. For a moment she lets go of my jean clasp to run her hand along my abs, then up slowly to my pecs.

“See. There’s nothing wrong with liking what you see.” I smirk.

She flushes, bright red, then, and drops her hand back to my jeans. I feel a sharp pulse in my cock at the sight of her blush. Her hesitant innocence never fails to turn me on. The way I scare her almost as much as I attract her. I cannot get enough of that.

She manages to undo my jeans, and pushes them down, blushing even more at the sight of my stiffening cock. I just grin at her and strip my boxers off myself.

“There are oils on the table. I’ll tell you what to do,” I reassure her as I climb onto the massage table and lie facedown.

My plan is to break down her nerves about touching me. Even when she does touch me, when she sucked me off in the garden, she was so hesitant, so careful. I need her to get desperate, hungry, in order for this to work. This seemed like the easiest way to relax her around me.

She spills some oil into her hand, and tips it from her palm onto the small of my back. It’s warm and I relax against the table, peering over my shoulder at her. “Rub it in, Pamona.”

She starts to run her hands along my back, softly. Hesitantly at first, so light that I barely feel it. But as she trails her palms up to my neck, then back down along my shoulders, tracing them, she starts to put a little more weight into it, her fingers working my muscles gently.

I can feel the semi I already had starting to get harder as her hands continue to explore my skin. I tell her where to touch, and she obeys every time, her hands gliding across my back. But I didn’t expect her soft caresses to turn me on this much. The way she’s slowly opening up, relaxing about touching me, is making me wild. Before long, I’m hard as hell, my cock digging into the padded massage table. It takes every ounce of control I have not to grind my hips against the table, and it’s starting to ache from the effort.